Chapter 155: Enchanted Objects

 

  “Stryg, you still need to practice your illusion restoration spells,” Vayu nodded to himself. “I have to admit though, your illusion spells have advanced quite fast. I think it soon may be time to begin teaching you mind spells.”

  “Really? I’m done with the wind-chime room and all these annoying illusions?” Stryg sat up excitedly.

  “What? No, of course not,” Vayu laughed. “No, you are nowhere near mastering illusions. When I deem you ready you will begin training mind spells alongside  your illusion spells.”

  “Right,” Stryg sighed. He shook his head and sat upright, “I will not fail you. Tell me what to do and I’ll have it done.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Vayu smiled.

  Stryg glanced past the open sliding doors and to the city spread across the horizon. It was difficult to truly grasp how enormous Hollow Shade was until you saw it from up high. Thousands of buildings sprawled across his view. He could tell which district the buildings belonged to based on their size and design. The Trade District was the largest of the city’s sectors, followed by the poor Commoner District, then the middle-class Bourge District where merchants and lesser Named Houses lived. 

  With a plethora of dark interests such as brothels, slave markets, and beast-kin breeders, many folks visited the infamous Night District. 

  Stryg turned his gaze further beyond, he could clearly see the large mansions of the Villa District from here, it was where the most powerful of Great Houses lived, including the Seven Ruling Families.

  The Central District was located at the center of Hollow Shade, it was easy to spot thanks to the looming Ebon Tower that stood proud at the very center of the city. The only more iconic structure of Hollow Shade was the Ebon Wall. Stryg still had no inkling of how the Ebon Lords had managed to create the titanic magestone wall, nor how they managed to place thousands of shades within its eerie dark stone.

  Stryg glanced down below at the mage academy’s campus. Dozens of buildings surrounded him. He spotted a variety of students rushing across the cobblestone paths, trying to get to their next class. The Scholar District encompassed Hollow Shade’s four prestigious schools, the magic, martial, merchant, and civics academies.

  “This place really is incredible,” Stryg muttered.

  “Hm? What was that?” Vayu asked.

  “Professor Glaz, I have some questions,” Stryg looked up at the sky and stared at the sun.

  “Fire away,” the dark elf said.

  Stryg glanced over at him, his lilac irises had widened and spanned entirely across his eyes.

  “Your eyes,” Vayu leaned forward with interest.

  “My master told me it’s an ocular mutation. It allows my eyes to handle large exposures of light, I’m not sure of its limits. What I do know is that I see light differently when my eyes are like this. Light appears to me as soft almost physical substances, like paint or ribbons.” Stryg sighed, “This probably doesn’t make much sense.”

  “No, please go on. I’m listening,” Vayu nodded vigorously.

  Stryg cupped his hands together, pooled purple mana into his palms, and casted a small illusory grey orb.

  “When I was at Castle Mora I encountered some illusions. The thing was, I could clearly see they were illusions, they were purple. I know mana is a form of energy and therefore ethereal and invisible in its natural state. I also know my mutation doesn’t allow me to see mana. So, why did those illusions at the castle appear purple? Why does this illusory grey orb in my hands look purple right now?”

  Vayu laughed giddily, “This is fascinating stuff, really. House Glaz takes pride in being considered the most powerful Ruling Family and having extensive magical knowledge, especially regarding purple magic. Our founder was a true purple mage, you know.”

  “I didn’t,” Stryg shook his head.

  Vayu cleared his throat, “Sorry, I digress. My point is, I have never heard of anything like this before. Sure, ocular mutations have been recorded in the past, but not one quite like yours. And to see illusions as purple, it is sort of like clarity magic.”

  “Clarity magic?” Stryg had heard Lord Elzri Noir mention it before.

   “Yes, the true blue spell-form. Clarity spells have several capabilities, the most famous is being able to see mana in all forms, whether that be floating in the air in its natural state, being transformed into a spell, or even lying dormant within a mage’s body.”

  “But I can’t see mana,” Stryg frowned.

  “Exactly! Which begs the question, why do you see illusions as purple?” Vayu leaned back and rubbed his chin, “Illusions are composed of matter, albeit very little. Perhaps that matter interacts with light differently? Or maybe the illusions themselves also give off some level of light that your eyes detect?”

  “I was hoping for a more concrete answer,” Stryg sighed.

  “This is new territory, jumping to conclusions so quickly could be very detrimental. If there is anything else you could tell me about the incident at Mora Castle, it would be very helpful. Such as what sort of illusions did you see.”

  “Hmm,” Stryg closed his eyes in thought. “Well, there were three illusions that all looked identical to the original, a lamia.”

  “You encountered a lamia? I’m surprised you got out with your life,” Vayu rubbed his neck.

  “So am I,” Stryg sighed. “Anyway, the illusory lamias moved in sync with the original. Whenever one of the illusions were damaged they would regenerate almost instantly.”

  “Illusion restoration,” Vayu nodded. “The purple mage who cast the spell must have been very skilled.”

  “There was no mage, just the lamia.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Beast-kin have no magic, whether it be elemental or chromatic,” Vayu’s forehead creased.

  “She was wearing this golden belt with purple magestones embedded on it. I’m guessing it was an enchanted belt since it had a bunch of arcane symbols engraved on its surface,” Stryg shrugged.

  “Incredible,” Vayu said in awe.

  “Huh?”

  “Enchantments are difficult spells to create, especially complex ones. While they are normally limited to the abilities of brown mana, if the enchanter is a manifold mage they could hypothetically create an enchanted object that mimics a spell from a different chromatic color.”

  “So, this one was enchanted by a purple-brown mage?”

  Vayu stood up, “Yes, but you don’t understand the importance of this. It is incredibly difficult for enchantments to mimic spells from a different color. Even creating a staff that could shoot a basic orange fireball spell would take a powerful high-master mage a year to make and perfect. And that’s only one spell. Trying to enchant an object with several spells, ones so advanced to be able to perfectly copy a lamia three times?”

  Vayu ran his hands through his short grey hair, “That would require years of work and the craftsmanship of an extremely skilled arch-mage enchanter. I know of no living manifold arch-mage enchanter who wields both purple and brown mana. Nor can I recall any in recent history. Even if there had been, an enchanted object of that level would be famous.”

  “So, how did something so valuable end up in the hands of a lamia?” Stryg asked.

  Vayu’s lips grew thin, “I don’t know. Perhaps…”

  “What? What is it?”

  “I have two possible theories, neither is promising for us.”

  “At least tell me,” Stryg complained.

  “Well, one possibility is that the enchanter came from a different Realm, which would explain how such a powerful enchanted object has gone unnoticed. It would also mean that our enemy, the Cairn Tribe, has the backing of another Realm. How they managed to contact another Realm after the Schism leads to implications I don’t even wish to entertain.”

  Stryg was surprised. What could get a high-master mage like Vayu scared? “Okay, so what is the other possibility?” Stryg asked.

  “That there is a powerful arch-mage in the Cairn Tribe. I’ve never heard of one of the Valley tribes having an arch-mage. The thought of an enemy arch-mage is unsettling, but certainly preferable to the previous theory.”

  Stryg stood up and bowed his head, “Thank you for the info. I should get going to my next class. My teacher will get angry at me if I’m late.”

  “Right, I’ve held you up too long,” Vayu smiled wryly. “Oh, before I forget. The enchanted belt, you said it had several magestones? How many and how large?”

  “Three, I think? They were a little larger than my hand. Why?”

  “The more powerful the enchantment the more mana they use. Judging from the amount and size of the magestones I would guess they were a high-grade cut.”

  “High-grade cut?”

  “Not all magestones are equal. Some can absorb and hold more mana than others. Either way, that enchanted belt would consume its mana reserves fairly quickly. There has to be a powerful mage who is constantly recharging the magestones.”

  “So, they do have an arch-mage enchanter on their side?” Stryg muttered.

  “The possibility is becoming more and more likely,” Vayu sighed.

~~~

  Stryg ran down the stone steps and burst into the Frost Pool Chamber with a slam of the iron door. Ismene sat on a large pillow at the other end of the chamber. Next to her was a gold filigree teapot and two cups of steaming tea.

  Ismene’s beige eyes looked him over. Her wrinkled hands grabbed a teacup with a calm elegance Stryg had tried to emulate but always failed.

  “You’re late,” Ismene sipped her tea.

  “I’m sorry, I got caught up with an interesting conversation about magic,” Stryg bowed repeatedly.

  “Everything about magic is interesting to you.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “When it blinds you to your priorities, yes, it is.”

  “Right…” Stryg swallowed.

  He glanced at the metal grate flooring, hoarfrost had formed at its edges. He could see the water beneath the grate slosh around with an all too familiar rage. Stryg tried to think quickly before the Tempest Arch-Mage doused him with freezing water.

  “It had to do with the Mora Castle attack,” Stryg spouted.

  Ismene stared at her tea, “You have been through a lot these past few days.”

  “Uh-huh,” Stryg nodded vehemently. 

  His eyes never left the water beneath him.

  “Coming late to your first day of the semester may set a bad precedent. A blue mage must always be in control of themselves, they have to take their training seriously,” Ismene murmured.

  “I promise I won’t be late again!” Stryg swore.

  “Hmm… In that case, I will make an exception for today.” Ismene patted the pillow next to her, “Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and tell me about your travels.” 

  The cold metal floor vibrated as Stryg ran across. He took a seat on the pillow and grabbed his cup of tea graciously.

  “I’m listening,” Ismene smiled warmly.

  The elder human seemed like a benevolent loving grandmother-like figure. No one would think that she was in fact the fearsome Tempest Arch-Mage, who had single-handedly slain countless valley raiders and river pirates. The tribes of Dusk Valley feared her more than Elzri or any other mage.

  Stryg’s worries of the Cairn Tribe’s arch-mage suddenly melted away.

  He smiled and grabbed his teacup, “I managed to cast a torrent spell.”

  Ismene raised an eyebrow, “I thought we were holding off casting blue spells until you managed to stop relying on your anger.”

  “That’s the thing! I mean, sure, I normally rely on my emotions to spellcast. But this time was different. We were in the Dire River in the middle of a storm.”

  “Mm, I’ve been there, not fun,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t have made it if my centaur hadn’t saved us. Still, it was close. We were going to drown and all I could think of was how I didn't want Rhian and Maeve to die.”

  “Your companions I assume?”

  Stryg nodded, “Right. I wanted us to live, that’s all I wanted. And my blue mana responded to that. I was able to cast a torrent spell that created a wave to carry us to our ship.”

  Ismene sipped her tea quietly. “Using the will to live as your mental focus for spell-casting is very powerful, but ultimately unstable. Still, it is a start. Your meditation skills have made some progress as well… Perhaps it is time I begin teaching you torrent spells.”

  “Great! I’m tired of just sitting here and talking all the time,” Stryg sighed in relief.

  Ismene stared at him.

  “*Ahem* I mean, I am deeply grateful for this honor, professor Ismene,” he bowed deeply.